(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

{from here}

Sinric lead Hannibal out of a doorway and into the warm light of spring afternoon. He cranes to look up, following the line of the wall and the buildings. "We're in the right place. The bath should be just through there."

He points to a alley that leads out the road and the grand entrance to the bath houses. "It is small by some standards. Only large enough for thirty or forty people. Many of the greater baths have closed for the cost to keep them is very high and many wealthy households have smaller bathes of their own."

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric doesn't notice, accustomed to being an object of interest and admiration, a walking piece of art.

He adds a little more oil and starts to work with the scraper, his touch even and firm. The blade removes dirt, dead skin, oil and hair in swift, easy strokes.

He works right up to Hannibal's crotch, his touch professional but intimate in this open, exposed place.

[cook_the_rude]

On Hannibal's back, though, there is a large round brand showing a boar's head -- clearly not a slave's brand, but something strange and artful.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric's hands move lightly over the areas of the brand, carefully testing that it causes no pain to Hannibal. He has seen the edges of it but never the whole design so clearly.

He touches Hannibal's shoulder lightly, catching the doctor's eye. Part of him wants to ask but he knows now is not the time. "Let me know if my touch causes you any discomfort, please?"

[cook_the_rude]

"It does not," Hannibal assures him. "It's over three years old. It was given to me by an enemy who was rather obsessed with pigs -- it was the brand he used on the pigs he raised and slaughtered by the thousands."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric rests a gentle hand on Hannibal's shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry, sir. That was cruel of him." Branding is used to mark slaves, a permanent and brutal act.

More men come in, laughing loudly. Like the other men, they start to oil and scrape themselves down.

One of the calls to Sinric in Greek, brash and loud. "Hurry up with him, boy! You can do me next."

Sinric's hand tightens minutely on Hannibal's shoulder as he turns to address the man, his voice even and controlled. "My apologies, sir. I do not belong to this house. If you would like assistance cleansing, I'm sure the staff here will help you."

[cook_the_rude]

"He is here for me," Hannibal says coolly, in quite passable Medieval Greek.

[thewidewideworld]

"And who are you to own such a pretty slave?" The man challenges but his friends hush him. It's clear they've all been drinking.

Sinric ignores the man, focusing his attentions on Hannibal's arms and shoulders, blocking the brand from the man's view.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal doesn't answer, instead relaxing into Sinric's touch and ministrations, like somebody who doesn't need to pay any attention to such rude rabble.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric too focuses working the knots out of Hannibal's shoulder, cleansing his skin with care. He gestures for Hannibal to roll over, beginning on his front.

The man and his friends make their own preparations, still muttering and casing lewd looks at Sinric's naked form.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal rolls over, shamelessly offering himself to view while obscuring the brand, which might have aroused undue suspicion.

He smiles up at Sinric.

[thewidewideworld]

The man seem curious about the stranger but not interested the way they are in Sinric.

Sinric smiles back and leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Hannibal's lips. His hands moves shamelessly over Hannibal's body, as much massaging as caressing.

[cook_the_rude]

"They wouldn't want to see me rise in public, would they?" Hannibal says, opening his maroon eyes again to smile at Sinric.

He is clearly enjoying this.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric purrs softly, tracing the shape of Hannibal's lips with his own. "You would not be the first, nor the last." He grins. "Why do you think I requested a private room. I hoped you might rise to me."

He scrapes off the last of the oil, offering Hannibal a hand up and gesturing him to corner where an amphora of clean water waits to rinse off.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal follows him over. "I will rise to anything you have to offer," he says, "but perhaps not before that?"

He rinses himself off.

"Yes, I can definitely tell that the soap-like reaction of oil and my sweat has worked the way it should," he comments.

[thewidewideworld]

"That might be wise." Sinric chuckles, scooping up water and helping rinsing Hannibal off, rubbing him down with the linen towel.

"Would you prefer the frigidarium or the caldarium next? Most people prefer the steam rooms first but in these smaller baths, it is acceptable to use the rooms in whichever order you wish."

[cook_the_rude]

"Do they have a tepidarium here, to warm up gently before braving the steam?" Hannibal asks.

[thewidewideworld]

"Oh yes. And it is most beautiful." Sinric smiles, giving himself a quick rinse off too before leading Hannibal into the tepidarium.

The tepidarium is a great vaulted hall, large as any Olympic sized pool with smaller, more intimate pools around the edges suitable for groups of five to ten.

The walls and floors are decorated in geometric blue and white tiles, the arching ceiling picked out in silver starbursts depicting the constellations.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal stops beside the threshold, as if to keep the entrance free, and looks around.

"It is amazing," he says. "Would you like a swim first, or shall we take to one of the small pools?"

[thewidewideworld]

"I am at your disposal." Sinric smiles, hanging their towels by a peg. "I wish I were free to take you to the baths in the palace. They are much more grand than this."

He crouches on the edge of the large pool, using the reflection of the water to pull his now dark hair back and bind it away from his face.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal sits on the edge, and smoothly slides into the water, causing barely more than a ripple to disturb Sinric's reflection.

"Grander than this?" he says. "I do believe you, but I find this very grand."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric binds the end of the braid with a leather thong and comes sit beside him, dangling his feet in the warm after.

He leans back on his hands to look up at the vaulted roof. "The common areas of the palace bath is larger than this, with half the pool is open to the sky so a clear and beautiful day may the enjoyed." And the bacteria in the water kept in check by the sunlight.

"The other half is covered by a roof tiled with gold, each piece no larger than the nail of your thumb. Along the edges are depicted every animal known to man, and more known only in stories. The marble of the bath is white as snow but veined with such a deep red that the stone seems almost to pulse with blood."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal looks up at him. "That sounds amazing -- especially the marble! Where is it from?"

[thewidewideworld]

"In truth, I do not know. The bath was commissioned by Constantine the Great in the building of the palace but much was repaired and changed by Justinian the first. My Lord has always stressed that it is the duty of each emperor to keep such things in trust and care for them well. He sees it as his responsibility to see to it all public works and building are kept in good repair. Especially the aquaduct and wells."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal leans back in the water, arms spread on the edge of the pool, and smiles at Sinric. "I like how proud you are of all the good and decent work he does," he says. "All the minutiae of running an empire smoothly, well organised and under control. Without aqueducts and wells, of course, the city would be unable to live at all. Cities are only possible, since the dawn of time, by public works -- so good things come to the ruler who takes good care of his infrastructure! But not every ruler by far is wise enough to know it."

[thewidewideworld]

"I am proud." He smiles softly, still only dangling his feet in the water. "History remembers his victories and his failures and his fierce stance on iconography. It forgets the time and money he poured into the city, into keeping the people safe.

"Around the time of my birth, plague struck the city and killed many. Constantine did not blame God or the wickedness of men. He turned the army to work restore clean water, bought great stocks of food and had it brought into the city so people would neither starve nor pay a fortune for bread. He spread word to the people fleeing the wars in Greece and Spain that the city was open and welcoming, repopulating it with those in need of a home. These are the acts for which he should be remembered." His face is flushed with passion, his voice sure and strong.